The Gift of Care
by E.J. Lawrence
Summary: This story revolves around the time that the Phantom spent in Persia before meeting Christine Daae. Pleas read.


1 The gift of Care By E.J. Lawerence  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Silence, an utter and complete silence dominates this land of mists and clouds. Soft rolls of white smoke billow about on the fields and cover every inch of this unique world. Those that live here never see this part of it; they see only what their mind, and those who reside here, intend them to see. This land has many names, the Norsemen called it Valhalla, the Greeks Olympus, those of the Christian and Jewish faiths call it Heaven, so many names and all are correct. The beings that dwell here are know also by many names, Spirits, Angels, Gods, all of which is truthful enough, and all of which they will answer to if called upon.  
  
These creatures, both male and female, live in a blissful state, watching over their wards, those in the lands below that abide their time till they can come back to the world of their kin. The creatures are pretty, all have unique marks from the lives that they have lived in the past, and each life is full of wonder. But after so many years the spirits then do not return to the land of the living, rather they stay in this realm guiding those below. And, as it was, Care was one of these creatures.  
  
She was a youthful thing, small and petite, with sharp gray eyes, and feathery silver hair. Her small, but pointed, nose acted as a dripping point for the tears that she was crying. Her long neck dipped low into her crossed arms, knees up under her silver and blue robes, shoulders shaking from sobs. The reason for these tears, her ward, a child, now a man, that had been her responsibility since birth, was dying. And there was little she could do about it, at most she could make it painless, and she was determined to, but she felt she had failed him in so many ways. Slowly she began to sink into the clouds and mists, when a voice whispered to her.  
  
"So, today is the day, isn't it, Care?"  
  
She lifted her head but didn't turn around, she knew who was standing behind her, and she didn't want HIS company right now.  
  
"What do you care, Truth," she said softly, as the man scrunched down, not quite sitting, on his legs, feet flat on the ground, and eyeing her steadily with a calm, almost pitying look in his gold eyes. Like Care, he had feathery hair, but rather his was a suit of gold, and a pair of translucent wings that clung to his back. He smiled at her, and she returned it with a sad frown, and narrowed eyes.  
  
"What do I care," he paused and thought. "Well it would be no use explaining to you that I only seek out to know the truth of you anguish. And that, like you, have a soft spot for the boy, he was, after all, a great musician."  
  
"Was," she hissed with venom unlike her normal soft voice. "He's not dead yet, and you're already calling him a was. How could you be so cruel?"  
  
"The truth often hurts, Care," replied Truth in his calm way. "Just like care is sometimes given to those who feel they don't need it. Or to those that don't deserve it. I am merely pointing out that he is dying, and that you shouldn't dwell upon this at the moment. You should be thinking about a way to fix it."  
  
"Fix what?" she moaned and put her head into her hands. "His time is up! And I can't change the past. Oh, I was a terrible ward to him. Why, why did I have to utter to the Maker to give me a challenge this time around. Something that I could work at, something that I could show how well I had learned."  
  
"There, there," he patted her on the head. "It's not all that bad. You managed to give him some happiness."  
  
"Ha," she barked, and then moaned, much to his annoyance. "What happiness, Truth. He lived a miserable life, stuck in a world that hated him from birth. To the Maker had I kept my mouth shut, then he could have lived.but no."  
  
"And you really believe that all was bad, and nothing was good."  
  
She held up two fingers as she spoke, "Two loves, that's all, two. One dies at the hand of a monster, the other he lets go because of his feelings for her. Two loves, Truth, that is all he ever had, and neither one lasted for him."  
  
Truth shrugged, "Be that as it may, when has a life ever been measured by how many lovers he had."  
  
She blinked, then knowingly nodded, and he rose up, helping her to her feet.  
  
"Come, I have something to show you." Truth told Care, and led her on a long walk. Both stayed silent as they moved, like ghosts, to a strange mist enshrouded temple. Inside hundreds of mirrors, all lit up like some giant stain glass window, reflected their appearance at every angle. Care looked about and twisted slowly in a circle gazing at all the images of her.  
  
"The Reflection of Truth," she said softly. "How did I know you would bring me here."  
  
"Because you know me oh to well," Truth said and waved his hand calling a large mirror forward for them to view from. Slowly their images dissolved and Care stiffed a sob when she saw the boy. A man, in his late forties, his dress cloths hung loose upon his skeletal frame, and his eyes, the blacken pools that were sunk back far into the face, seemed even deader then ever. His skin was gray, and clung to him tightly, but gave the revolting appearance of a rotted skull, no nose, but a cavity had formed and he could breath though this. Such a horror seen by most would turn away in disgust or pity. But not Care, she felt no fear or horror looking upon that face, for that was the face of her ward, and one she loved dearly like a child.  
  
"He is ill," she said softly, and Truth nodded. "What is it?"  
  
"Bronchitis, mixed with a weakened heart, and that wound from that boy did him no good either." Truth replied in a no nonsense way, and Care, feeling crushed, began again to weep. He looked at her and pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket. "There, dry your eyes. We have more work to do."  
  
Swiftly the image melted and showed scenes from only a day before. A blonde girl was sobbing as Care's ward pulled out a blonde boy, and a dark man, from the water that had risen slowly in a cell. The intent was to drown them, but Care's ward had saved them.  
  
"For you Christine," he had said. Care watched again as the boy's story went back slowly, and at times she covered her eyes. Tears ran down her face, and Truth would constantly be pulling out that handkerchief till he finally had enough and just gave it to her.  
  
"Take it," she took the wet bit of cloth in her hand. "You seem to need it more then I do."  
  
Then the images stopped, and he looked at her, "Are you ready to view this?"  
  
"Must I," she asked timidly, and he nodded. "Very well, show me why I must watch my failure over again."  
  
"You shall see," was all Truth said as the mirror swirled to show a lush Persian garden circa 1850. Then with another wave of his hand, the mirror grew larger, and the two strange spirits walked into the garden with heads held high. 


End file.
